Shadowed Alicante
by ShadowedAlicante
Summary: Xena's shadow world has fallen apart, into a million pieces she will never be able to piece back together. Just as she is about to turn over to the mundane world forever, something changes her mind. Will this new encounter bring her back into the shadow world? Or further into the shadows than she ever thought possible?


1 

The soft drone of raindrops on the stained glass windows of the institute calms my mind. The sudden flash of lightning fills the empty corridors with light for only a split second before returning it to the blanket of darkness it was before. I sit by the window, waiting for the thunder that follows. When it comes I listen to the distinct rumbles resonate through the foundations of the ancient church that has been the home of the Starkweather family for generations. Another flash of lightning lights up the wall behind me, fully illuminating the family insignia, a bolt of lightning with an S engraved in the center, perfect for this type of gloomy weather that somehow sets my nerves at ease. Or maybe it's just because I am too dumbfounded by the recent news to notice the overwhelming feeling of loneliness that is slowly closing in on me. No, I will not dwell on the painful fact that my family has not yet returned from a demon raid, all I can do is watch the raindrops fall from the sky.

"Xena, you are not old enough to go on a demon raid yet," my brother said with a reassuring smile, gearing up from head to toe in black shadowhunting gear and hidden weapons the morning before the raid. Flynt just turned 18 and was now acknowledged as a true shadowhunter, opening many new doors of responsibilities. The first and most important to many young adult shadowhunters is advancing from the training room to fighting real demons. How could it have only been a few mornings ago he looked at me with his long black hair slightly covering his light blue eyes, talking to me as if it was any other day? Gearing up with his daggers and applying fresh runes as casually as if he were fighting training dummies for practice? He told me to train while he was gone, to not worry about him, but how could I not worry? I said my last goodbye to my parents as if it were any other mission of the Clave they accepted, but to my brother it was hard to see him go.

They said they would be back before midnight, how many nights ago was that? How many times has lightning struck and thunder rumbled counting this long absence I have been entranced in without me being aware of it? Another lightning bolt cuts across the sky, but this time I am aware. I cannot stand another minute of being in these once inviting hallways, they can now only fill me with the crushing feelings from the family who once lived here. The only option I have left is to leave the institute before they send in another family. As I finally lift my body from the void that numbed my thoughts for so long, a tear falls down my cheek, just like the rain, at the slow realization that I am utterly alone in this world.

I cover my rune covered arm with a black sweatshirt, pushing my long straight black hair back and away from my face, the overgrown bangs of course falling annoyingly back into place just above my eyes. I am 15 now, all I would have to do is put on a strong glamour and use a false identity, which the Clave has so kindly supplied all shadowhunters with in case of mundane emergencies an alias with matching license and passport. My mind is made up: I will leave this place behind, the place I grew up with my parents fondly doting on me, and my brother, being the pain in the neck he was, always there to either pick on me or kindly help me while training. He was always good with blades, throwing or wielding them. I on the other hand prefered bow and arrows, ranged and stealthy. He just loved to point out all my flaws in everything I would do, until I could finally meet his high expectation and he would just smile his arrogant smile. How could he be gone?

I shuffle down the hallways now, too deep in reminiscing to regain all my energy. The tears have stopped now, I am no longer denying the fact that my family has fallen as brave shadowhunters. I reach the dorm corridor, the only hall in the labyrinth of many twists and turns with occupied rooms. I refuse to look into the room that belonged to my parents, I didn't need to see the plain beige walls with the very scarce decorations my mother made when she was young and feeling artistic. The next room is, or was, Flynt's. I couldn't help but stop and pause outside his room. I slowly nudged his door open, just to see his pigsty of a room one last time, but to my surprise, it was clean. Or at least, the closest to clean it has ever been. He must have cleaned it after his birthday this week, the dork, as if he had to be 18 before he could even possibly think of cleaning. A smile slowly creeps up the edge of my face, thinking of Flynt's flaws and quirks and how much he tried to change and be more mature after his 18 birthday.

I leave his room untouched, and make my way to my familiar room. When I enter it, I feel like collapsing on my bed but instead sink to my knees. My room is always as I have left it, a collage of paintings, drawings, and pictures. Painful pictures of my parents, of Flynt, of everything that was perfect before. All those memories now hung all around me, mocking me as they push me to the brink of collapsing in on myself. Another flash of lightning brings with it a crash of thunder. I slowly lift myself up again, thinking how pathetic I must look. My family would never want this, but I no longer wished to be under their nonexistence stares in the family institute, can no longer stand to live up to the family legacy they left behind that would now rest on my shoulder.

I grab my bag and start packing my wardrobe of all things black. I empty the bag of all its weapons, a few daggers and knives, and kick them across the floor, ignoring the warning my mother always used to say of never leave your weapons lying on the floor. Flynt learned the hard way when he cut his foot half open. I pull on my highest boots, also black matching my black jeans, black shirt, black sweatshirt and, shockingly something that isn't black, a dark gray scarf. Even if I am going away, a shadowhunter never leaves without a stele, so I slip one into my boot, hopefully I won't need to use it other than for glamours. I glance around my room one last time, as I reach for the door I realize I am still wearing the family ring, a lightning bolt and an S carved into delicate silver. I could leave it here on my dresser, but for some reason I can't part with it. So with only a stele and a family ring, I will leave this institute and the shadow world, hopefully never to remind me of my family again.

But before I leave, there are a few things I must do. I quickly walk down to the cellar, mostly because I hate the many cobwebs and spiders that lurk in every corner, and find the safe that holds the emergency mundane identities and money. A few hundred dollars, a passport, and a drivers licence, I think I should be good. I dart back up to the foyer, ready to leave this place behind, when I see the pieces of the note scattered on the floor. The note was delivered by the Clave, a notice for those who did not return from the assigned demon raid mission. I only read the first sentence before I tore it up into pieces and stormed off, descending into the first stage of depression: denial. I pick up the pieces now, wishing I didn't tear the note at all but thankful I didn't do anything worse to the piece of paper. Piecing it back together, my heart stops as I see the words "greater demon" on one piece. I frantically put the pieces together, which was harder than it should have been because my hands were now trembling and the pieces were savagely torn to uneven pieces which is especially difficult for one who was never good at jigsaw puzzles. When I finally find the first few pieces to the top half, I start reading the first paragraph, short and uncustomized. Just a brief message of how the bravest of shadowhunters are those who go down fighting. The next few pieces I put together with an uneasy tension, tears now welling up in my eyes from the frustration and fear that was now building up in the anticipation of finishing the letter. I read more, and piece together more, until I finish the note completely. There was no back, but what I read shocked me.

The letter was from the Clave, saying that no one survived the raid. The simple demon raid my parents and brother were assigned turned to havoc when a greater demon appeared. Nobody knows why the greater demon appeared, attacked, and returned to its own hellish dimension before backup could reach them. The only witness was from a new shadowhunter who fled when the greater demon spawned, but is now a disgrace to his kind for his actions. But at least he is alive. If my brother could have escaped as a coward, I would cope with that shame if he could be here with me now. But that isn't the way of the nephilim. We are brave fighters and we fight to the end.

With nothing left to the Starkweather institute, I pull down my hood and step into the rain as another flash of lightning turns the night sky as bright as day and the thunder booms louder than the constant sound of the downpour. I have no idea where I am going as long as it is far from home. No longer my home. Soon the Clave will realize that there is no one else in the Starkweather family to take over but me, and they will send in another family only to find me long gone.


End file.
